SWEET AND SOUR
I don’t like it when one of my online friends is in the hospital, or under-the-weather for any reason. Don’t like it when local dude has pneumonia and wife has to put the foot down, do the hospital screen, and restore order, and good health. So I read the blogs, and get insight. It helps me. Less isolation and some control, how I take it all in. Chat and personal, not so much. Is my basic nature. But I am alive and aware, and so from time to time, there is a Stoney Comment.
All of this as part of the chapter and verse of his days. Retired. No football, and baseball is a Spring away. Or so it seems. Was up early today. Before 9 am, had a nap. Getting up at 4 am will do that to you. Agreed. 24/7 and keeping up with the times. I try. And so today, my blog: Sweet and Sour.
I am jumping around from misery, darkness and what-the-heck, avoiding real life because today at the beach, its raining. . Reading the headlines for about 10 minutes in my day, and feel bad when all there is, is bad news. North Korea with nukes. Bad news. Then I switch gears. Remember the good times and the bad. And it happens. Ups and Downs. Not just at the Winter Olympics in Russia. And get an idea. Time to write about Sweet and Sour.
So I am old. Bad news bears. Old too. Pardon me, as I go back to 1984. Not long after one of my worlds, fell apart. Was a sickness of the time. People coming and going, and leaving me to cope. Didn’t like it much, but was me, growing up. Ups and downs. Like that.
1984 and there was an Australian television series, titled: Yes you guessed it. Sweet and Sour. So its in me. Watched some. Screen time. Diversion. A script about the face of vagaries in one’s life. Remember the phrase, "Life can be sweet and sour." So that’s where I am today. George Orwell's Novel 1984 and the Sweet and Sour series, seen on Aussie TV. Wading back and forth and lamenting and celebrating at the same time, the influence of technology on me and my life well-lived in the margins of suffering society, world-side. Main Story-line might be fictional, or indeed one that plays out in the time I have been on planet earth. Sweet and Sour. Ups and downs. Like that. Music to my ears.
It is rough and tough, when you want more out of life than that which has been received. Expectations and a jam session in an old boot factory. Sweet and Sour is not really about my asian-period, although I had one. Wasn’t really a bed of roses or perfume sweet. But lost myself in New Zealand and then in various Sydney pubs. 1984. Tried to run, before I could walk with chopsticks in my hand. Got old fast. Couldn’t feed myself. Takes a little getting use to. Eating with sticks. Being alone. Doing your first backyard barbecue, and nobody shows up. It happens. Ups and Downs.
Romantic tension. There wasn’t much. Just lost the love of my life to sickness. Mine mostly. Signs of the Time. Technology and we made a big deal out of main frame computers and IBM. Those days are now gone. Sweet and Sour. Win some. Lose a lot. Microsoft and the new way. Stock rises. Instant millionaire, but not me. Stuck in the side deals of my undoing. Never got over it. Real Life and the way it was.
But I am better now. Manipulated time and place. Became like those around me. Brash and Confident. Fit in real good. Traveled around, probably more than I should. But it worked out. Neon in the Tokyo night. Flash-floods in Taipei. Hillsides wash away, and I was left covered with mud. I remember things like that. Animated and furious, when it involved me. The ups and downs. The headaches and the controversy. Sweet and Sour.
And then I took to wearing crocodile shoes. People started noticing me. What I lost, I could not get back, but then again I just moved ahead. Dazzling people with technology and fast moving vehicles. Took me home. Eventually. They said. "Burnout." And that was true.
Fast moving times. A lot of changes. Win some. Lose a lot. So today it is raining at the beach, and I am here. Singing in the Shower. Some things you just can’t fix. Singing off-key is like that. Discordant. Sweet and Sour. Hard to endure, but we manage. Is how I am looking at things today. Life can be sweet and sour. But finally, we settle. 1984 becomes the winter of 2014. Read it and weep. Fast moving times.
And now my tea is flavored with honey. Honey. I miss you. But forget about it. Baked and Stewed. Sweet and Sour. Good times are coming. Certainly, over-due. And I offer the first clue. Ditch the electronic paper. Forget what google news has to say. Won’t be long before this too, is obsolete. And we can look back for history of such things. George Orwell and Orsen Wells. 1984. My time of personal nightmare and a future life without you, but with technology. Sweet and Sour on Aussie TV. Seems like so long ago. Downstream.
St. TIMOTHY
St. Timothy was a St. Bernard. Woke up this morning, thinking about all this. And now I am writing a blog, to sort it out. What was it about, all this that is still with me. Animal Planet Mind. I do this in the moment of declaration, that goes like this: "….. Who loves me, loves my dog." And that writes the final line of this blog. If we can’t get there, by some form of common agreement, go no farther. But then again, here we are. Big headed dog, and they say, "Big Heart. Rescue Dog. Saves people." But I never saw that side of St. Timothy. What I saw was winter staring me in the face, and big dog at my feet, as smoke went up the chimney. Cold outside, and why in the world would we go out there.
So understanding the difference between St. Timothy, and a St. Bernard, whose main job was rescuing people is quite simple. The cask around the neck was mostly symbolic. We didn’t do alcohol in those days, but did have a bottle of brandy upon the shelf. Mostly ceremonial. Say what you will, the dog and I didn’t drink. But there was a lot of smoke.
And didn’t really go outside, as much as you would suspect. But when we did, huge dog and sled and a copious amount of slobber, hair and dog poop everywhere. Better we go out, than do all that in the house. And as his buddy we had a good understanding. I would feed him, and he wouldn’t bite me, or sit upon my face, as I lay there sleeping. Man and dog. St. Timothy was a St. Bernard. That stayed with me for a while, and we were good together. Long winter. Good companion. Didn’t drink, but tolerated the smoke, and that’s all that was required. Way back then. Times are a changing. Not sure people love, like that big dog loved me. And I was addicted. Woke up this morning, thinking about all this.
So that was a long time ago, that St. Timothy was in my life. That chapter is over. But I am still alive. And that in itself is a miracle. So maybe St. Timothy did rescue me, but at the time I was oblivious to it all. In my hospice period. And the dog was there, to care for me. Probably it was the food and water he liked, and that was just the arrangement. I would feed big dog, and he would do the rest. Working dog. Found people who got lost.
And now that I think about it, he found me. Lost soul. And did lick my face, to keep me in a state of consciousness. And it must have worked. Years later. Still here. In a state of mind that reinforces the truth. St. Timothy rescued me. In a snowstorm. Probably dying. Only the dog knows what we did to regain control, survive and live on. And so in memory, this dog lives on for me. Sunday morning. Incredibly powerful, in a personal way. For me. It was a long time ago. St. Bernard named St. Timothy, showing me the way. The Path of Love. Man and Dog.
And that is my blog for today. Probably one of those stories that don’t make sense, unless you were there. Centered in the experience. Clinging to life. Thin air. Kind of high. And if that wasn’t enough, was carrying a perish stick. Stranded and this St. Bernard became my patron of mountain climber and lost soul. Delivered me to safety. Cared for me. Miracle healing. St. Timothy. More than just a dog. A true saint.
PASTEL FACADE
Am having a reaction to The Red Bubble in my day. For me, is a life long thing, reactions to everything, positive or negatively-speaking. Red Bubble and am moving away from the reminder of blood and gore and war. Blood work, and I do hope you feel better, but now this blog is all about me, mostly. Self-fish that way. Big ocean. Just me. Lost in the idea of vivid colors, or at best just blending in. Months ago it was summer. Now its not, and I am on the move, looking for a little sun.
And the airlines can help me with all that. Winter vacation for old people. Where do you want to be? And I can answer that. I want to be back in my youth, on a sandy beach on that blanket big enough for two and a little sand, if that what it takes to get you to look up and smile at me. And so its revision time. Tired of the war and news of war games. Necessary perhaps, but not at this time for me. So have changed and allowed the flow of mixed colors to create a Pastel Facade for me. Something to enter and hide behind. Perhaps.
I know what is going on, psychologically-speaking. Valentine’s Day is nearing, and have given up wine and sweets and many of the traditional items that point towards romantic love. But spend all my time loving you, even if you are not here, and won’t be. On Valentine’s Day. La Facade Pastel covers it for me. Not even a greeting card in the mail, and must I mention that the Mail Service is deteriorating and poor service is what is happening now. Want you to buy stamps online, and use modern means to communicate. Save time and money, and its a dismal scene. Government getting smaller and less efficient, but this is a blog about Valentine’s Day and romantic love, and everything else can be covered by La Facade Pastel. Color me indifferent these days. She is not coming. Check is not in the mail.
Notably blue. Pastel Hue. What do you want from me? What do I want, myself. Not really a question, as the answer had been formulating ever since you went away. Miss and I miss you. Of course I do. Its all about love, and its not just about one day. February 14th and some celebrate. As for me, I’m trippin. Not sure where I will end up. Evasion tactics and endless war. Inside and Out.
Mockery of all that we were about, standing there in the fading light, kissing. I remember some of that. Don’t remember the fireworks, nor the screams of panic. Was calm, and cool and collected. Even now, that is the case. Old buildings and pastel facade help me displace the immediacy of it all. You are gone. That’s all I need to know. Appear or Disappear. The essence of a magic trick, and won’t say lasting love is sheer trickery, but sometimes when I need to collect my thoughts, move out of the heat and glaring sun, drink some water and calm down, I think. Love is difficult at best. Geesh. I miss you.
Blue Note Jazz Club. Pastel facade and intentionally blue, with a happy saxophone in the background. Valentine’s Day. You and I. Forgot the date, but it must have been February 14. But what was the year. Who cares, I know it happened. Let me seek pleasure in that moment. Love the music that brings me close to you. Tunes, both now and then. Subtle and Revealing. Not sure I ever thought, we had it all. But in the jazz club we had fun. Celebrating Life. Smooth together and that’s how I see it, even now. Crystalizing jazz, funk and Latin. Life on an Aruba Beach.
Headed that way now. Not sure if I will get there. Not sure if snow and misery and war will prevent me, from being there. Pastel Facade helps me think differently, block out reality, and seek love. All the time. In real time. Not just on Valentine’s Day. But always, am in love with the idea that I was truly in love with you. Missing that and you and well it happens. One more set after midnight. One more glass of water. Tears perhaps, but probably not. A stoic. Well disciplined. Hide. That feeling behind a pastel facade, listen to the music and do well. That is the message I send. To myself, mostly.
In love. Still. Keeping it real. Trippin or on a trip. It all blends together. Throwback to yesterday. Nothings changed. Mirrored walls and pictures of you, dot my memory. Cling to the smooth dance moves that brought me to you in the first instance. Spacious and with endless possibility, back them, was a form of generous love. You and I. And so it is. In the lounge, but staying away from drink specials. Enjoying the colors of you and those around me. Special aura. That’s what love is. Special Colors. Inside behind the pastel facade. My blog for today.
A UNIVERSAL ACT
scene: Sitting on the beach at Bognor Regis Beach in the UK, as it approaches 5:30 pm in February. The sun going down, and now the beach is visible but growing dark. One person sits nears water’s edge, and I am wondering could this be you or I. And now two more with shopping bag in hand, walk down to water’s edge. Watching darkness settle on the incoming breakers that settle between the wood that must have been piers out into the water, a working beach front perhaps in another time.
From the webcam view, I use as personal eyes, it is dark now and the white edge of wave is barely visible. The lights are on and I can see a slice of town, and cars passing by on the main road, 50 yards or more to my left. The beach is empty now, and it is but 30 minutes later, perhaps 6 pm, 70 miles southwest of London, where Bognor Regis Beach happens to be.
Time to go inside. Dark and desolate beach, but seems to be calm and around 48 degrees, which is equal to where I am on this day and moment. Comparable weather, and is just 10 am, on the West Coast of America. And I am considering a beach walk, as soon as I finish my morning tea and writing period.
Now, a return to Bognor Regis Beach. Back across the water. Seattle and living at water’s edge, much like the people who live just across from this beach in Bognor Regis, and I can see buildings that might have residential housing on the upper levels. So I can relate, and is part of my extended living plan for today. Should I tell you more? This being a one sided blog, I think at this point the choice is mine. Perhaps to be rescinded later, when I read your comments, and they come in the range of , "….Boring, Boring, and more so." Then maybe this will be a one time event. Random selection of a webcam, stationed far away from where I am. Different as night and day. Webcam and actual feet on the sand, land meeting sea. And so I will come back. Using technology, and adjusting my state of mind.
Will have the opportunity to read up on the area, Bognor Regis Beach. Will adjust my viewing angle by using Google map and geo-app that allows me to explore at water’s edge, then move inland and look at the store fronts and people occupied places. So let me explain why this all makes sense to me. Last night on the phone with Niece Kamini, who calls to check up on me, from time to time. You see, I am retired. Have gotten older and set in my ways, and go out less and less.
And so casually she asks, "So what do you have planned for this coming week?" A perfectly good question, until it registered with me, what she was asking. I said, "Absolutely nothing." Have nothing to do, nor planned. And this got me thinking. Is this proper. What should I be doing?
Time available. Fully alive. And I am saying, "Absolutely nothing." And so awoke this morning. Decided it was time to figure out a worthy compromise to having absolutely nothing to do that interests me. And so I decided to time-travel using what was available to me. Up and turn the computer on. Turn the jazz station on, so I have sounds around me and I feel better, with the music on. Jazz. Smooth Jazz. Now making tea, and putting on the visit screen, just in case. In case a few selected people want to instant message me, and ask, "How are you doing?"
And so am stepping outside my isolation. Dark now at Bognor Regis Beach, but I can see equal to being there, stepping out of a pub at night, after work perhaps. Looking across the road, down at the beach. Can possibly hear the breaker’s roar. And I am completely satisfied.
At water’s edge. Warm, but now thinking I will go out. Look out the window. Raining. Need to have a snack. Oatmeal will do. Then need to put on rainwear and protection. At water’s edge, much like what I see from my computer, but of course it is daylight, and I am on the other side of the water. And now I have a plan. I have something to do. And one thing leads to another. And when my niece calls, and asks, "What are you doing?" And I will tell her about my adventure. How I went to Bognor Regis Beach, using Google Earth and other technology. And I can hear it now, "Unreal." And that will be that.. Stoney with something to do. And now, the adventure begins. At water’s edge.
HORSE AND COW
Moonslayer got me going in this direction, when it was said, " If you don’t like what you see, change it from bright yellow to sassy pink." In the middle of something, and I don’t know where that came from. Changing my diet, not drinking much. Not even water, so dehydration may be taking its toll.
The theme for today is horse and cow, and not how I became enchanted by the full moon, or moon rays through the clouds, but whatever, the clock has finally struck midnight, time for bed. And suspect the night will be one massive dream about horses and cows and insomnia. But then again, I do not remember. Fast asleep or fitful turning. The night is what it is. A time for the horse and cow show. Shall we begin.
I just read this and its like a red flag and a warning from somebody you like and trust. A friend. It said, " ….. this article contains wording that promotes the subject in a subjective manner, without imparting real information." Subject in a subjective manner, sounds fishy enough, but then add a full moon, and the problem of being hungry and trying to write on an empty stomach. Not sure my blogs should be judged or reworded to please my grammar teacher. Sanction and pre-empt and this could be the beginning of reining me in. Controlling my performance, and I am not down for that.
Woke up this morning and there was snow covering everything. Snow White. Purity and a basic understanding that this was unusual, but not impossible. So I move forward. A blog about horse and cow. Eventually, I will find a steady pace, complete the project and feed myself. All things are better on a full stomach. I should say that.
You can get a little star-struck, or in my case moon-rayed and covered over by snow. It is that kind of day, and suitable as the Winter Olympics have started in Russia, and the start time for most events is not convenient for me to watch, and the TV and coverage is spotty. Doesn’t matter why, I am determined to do my own thing. Drink some water, and do my horse and cow show. In a meadow or at water’s edge, what does it matter if its too cold to go out, and you want to watch sports on TV, but there are problems with that, also.
There are horse and cow stories I could tell, cheap and frozen, and beyond my ability, hence the warning. Subjective and without information value. Doesn’t hurt that my day is going this way. Been in the city so long now, that the horse and cow connection is fading. Horse and buggy gives way to the automobile. Now train and plane and space vehicle. We have come a long ways. Plane and Simple.
Self-assessment time. Winter Olympics and Oh Canada. Lots of cold weather places, buying and selling a little warmth and understanding. Have to get to know more about the subject, but then again, things have changed for me in the last few months. I have developed a I-Don’t-Care state of mind. Controversy surrounds the subject of subjectivity. Upsets me that it comes up, that the moon can affect me like this. We should talk about it, probably not.
Preserving and Promoting Winter and the Olympics is on my mind. Need more practice in handling it in a civilized manner. Both in and out, Horse and cow, and is a matter of principle that I bring the subject up in the first place. Stay healthy. Avoid leg injury. Don’t slip on a slope taking you to the fence. Wet and Cold and slippery. Maybe its something you are use to. I am not. Woke up to snow and now I’m thinking, Horse and Cow. And I am not sure why. Had Winter Olympics on my mind, when I went to bed. But not now. Free to be me, and that’s how I will end this. Insanus-Draconem. And a quiet A.M ( amen ).
WON AND DONE
I don’t want to burden with chants in 3-part harmony about defense, offense, and special teams. Figure we should give credit for a job well done. Total surprise ending. Happy for some, and for the rest, they don’t seem to be in the conversation. Not yet. But I like to say this, " They are professionals. They don’t play." So some will be passionate about all this. Others will seek improvement, but in today’s world help comes in many forms, and not all are equal. Currently playing top 10 tunes. People jumping around with music in their earplugs. Afraid to get that close. Some look crazy. But isn’t that what its all about. Free to do your own thing.
Winner gets followers. Be it the Oscar Awards or NFL football. We get something out of knowing who is on top, even if we divorce every three years, and then remarry. Our Love Affair with Sports and public celebrity status. Not sure this is the traditional ways of our parents and grandparents, but its our way. Well, perhaps. My blog for today: Won and Done. Through it all we will struggle for meaning.
In Seattle they had a parade for the winners. Soon everybody can go home. Broken windows and glass, I expect in a crowd of many, there will be those things that happen everywhere, not just in Compton, California. We start playing at a young age. We learn the rules, discipline, and respect. But not everybody, plays for life. Passionate is one of those in the moment things. And it takes a while to sort out. The big success. Name recognition. Make a big splash. Flash that smile. Show youth and energy where its at. Handle the trivia and sidestep the facts. Camera on.
Expect them to generalize and profile you. More than likely they will. But down the road, you get an agent. You learn business or get somebody on your team that knows what to do. And so it goes in circles. As long as you win, they keep you, as long as you are affordable. Replacement Value. A theme for another day. Today it is, Won and Done. And yes, for this group of young people, it was a dream season. Continue on.
Its difficult for me to be fair and unbiased. I might not be able to speak your language, or match your thoughts on this subject. Won and Done. What does that mean really. That winning has a language all its own. That the world I occupy loves a winner. Observe and Learn. Sports or business. Not sure this comes across as I intend it. Well, maybe it does. Enjoy the moment. Understand the difficulty of this accomplishment. Read message boards if you need help, getting a real life perspective. Spend your time on useful things. If its football, then maybe some day I will be seeing you. But if you follow the Done Part, I will go one way, and perhaps you, another. Does it matter that for one moment we screamed at the top of our capacity. Went crazy when our team wins the whole enchilada. Speak Easy. Be Confident.
Then go home. Citing fatigue. It takes a lot of energy to win, and for the fan it takes a lot of energy to celebrate. Won and Done. Is that it. What more can be said in a blog. The season is over. This was the big game. Now we all get some time off, until it all happens in what they call the 2014 season. The Duel. The Challenge. The Winner. Hard to capture what this means to me, and to you. A Gamut of Seasons. Preparation. Execution. Anticipated Repeat. Pursuit and Trial by a new set of players. The adrenaline rush and the local high. Denver. In the mountains. Seattle. At sea level. The parade is over. I will wander off. Hands are cold, but the heart is warm. Everybody loves a winner. Won and Done. In the afternoon.
